


The Snowstorm

by Sexxica



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Spooning, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gets him and John stuck in a snowstorm in a rental car. Something has to be done for them to keep warm until help arrives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Snowstorm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for KrisKenshin's prompt: frozen to the bone.
> 
>  
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr for sneak peaks and WIP updates!](http://sexxicawrites.tumblr.com/)

“Damnit Sherlock, I told you.  I told you this car couldn’t handle snow like this.”  John huffed and crossed his arms as Sherlock revved the engine again, only managing to sink them deeper into the soft drift.  “We don’t even have a shovel to dig us out and try to go back the way we came!  We’re two hours out into the middle of nowhere and we are stuck.”

John looked out the window where the puffs of snow were coming down thick, and the temperature would be dropping fast now that the sun had gone down.  This had been a phenomenally bad idea, John had said so from the start.  But Sherlock was insistent that they take this case and was too impatient to wait out the snowstorm.

Sherlock sighed and turned off the engine, defeated, and crossed his arms on the steering wheel, resting his forehead against them.  “What do you propose we do?” Sherlock asked quietly, knowing full well that he was the one at fault for their current situation.  

“I propose you call a damn tow truck and then not speak to me until we’re somewhere warm. Preferably with tea.”  John shot Sherlock a withering glance and then resumed watching the snow pile up around the rapidly chilling car.

Sherlock did as John said and called for help.  “They don’t know how long they’ll be.” Sherlock said, and John gave him no response.  The windows were starting to fog and frost over.

Time passed, the snow fell, and John started to shiver in his inadequate jacket.  “You’re cold.” Sherlock said, and John just glared icily at him - the profanity was implied.  “John, we’re going to have to do something or we’re both going to freeze.  Although I would relish the chance to study the stages of frostbite on extremities, I don’t particularly want to do so on my own digits.  Or yours for that matter.”

John sighed through his chattering teeth.  The git was right.  It was dark and cold and who knew when the tow truck would show up, or even if it could make it out to them.  John squeezed his eyes shut and groaned when he realized what they would have to do.  “Right.  Into the back seat.”

Sherlock clamoured over the seats into the back and Joh followed, much less gracefully.  “Take your coat off, we’ll use it as a blanket.” John instructed as he reluctantly pulled off his own coat - this worked better with less clothing, but John was less than willing to strip off entirely with his flatmate, let alone the flatmate who regularly gave him the most inappropriate thoughts.  John balled his coat up for them to use as a pillow.  

“Well, lay down then” he said, and Sherlock stretched himself out across the back seat as much as his considerable height allowed.  John laid down next to him, pulling Sherlock’s coat up over them both.  They struggled to fit together on the narrow seat and Sherlock slid one arm beneath John’s neck, wrapping it around and across John’s chest to grip his shoulder to allow John in closer.

Sherlock’s breath was warm and moist on the back of John’s neck, and although his fingers were like ice, his body was surprisingly warm.  Slowly John stopped shivering in Sherlock’s arms.  “Better?” Sherlock rumbled, his lips close to John’s ear, the vibrations of his voice travelling straight down John’s spine.

John sighed, suddenly glad he was the little spoon in this situation, he didn’t want to admit the things Sherlock’s voice could do to him. “Yes” John finally answered.

“Good” Sherlock said, as he shifted against John, moving a hand first onto John’s hip, and then worming it up underneath John’s jumper and shirt.

John nearly jumped out of his skin, and certainly would have fallen off the seat if Sherlock hadn’t been holding him so tightly.  “Sherlock! What the hell are you doing?”

Sherlock wasn’t dissuaded in the least by John’s protest, and instead slid his hand up further underneath John’s clothes, over the soft hair at the waistband of his trousers to rest in the centre of John’s stomach.  “My hand is cold.”

“I can bloody well tell your damn hand is cold!” John shouted, his heart starting to beat much faster than it should have.  “What are you doing putting it up my shirt.”

“Obvious, John.” Sherlock said, his voice still having far too much of an effect on John.

“You could have at least warned me.” John grumbled, trying desperately to ignore the fact that his trousers were feeling much too tight, and Sherlock’s cold fingers were splayed against his bare skin.

Sherlock shifted again, and John could have sworn that the breaths on the back of his neck were coming quicker.  John tried to stay still, tried to clear his mind from what was happening, what couldn’t be happening.  Could it?

John didn’t have to wait long for an answer to his unasked question, as Sherlock’s now warmed hand travelled back down and instead of resuming it’s place, slid over John’s groin.  Sherlock moaned deep in John’s ear and John gasped and shivered.  

Sherlock pressed his nose into the back of John’s ear as he gave a slow squeeze to John’s hard cock through his jeans.  “Ah, Sherlock …” John started, but was quickly silenced as Sherlock licked a line up the ridge of his ear and ground his hips against John’s arse, clearly demonstrating his own evaluation of the situation.  

John took a shuddering breath in and Sherlock somehow managed to slip out from behind him and plant himself firmly on top of John, one hand on either side of John’s head.  John stared up into Sherlock’s face, his eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the winter night and he could see the flush spread across Sherlock’s cheeks, and the glisten of his moist lips.  John reached a hand up to Sherlock’s head and pulled him down hard, their lips mashing together in a bruising kiss.  

Sherlock pressed his hips down into John, drawing a groan from the smaller man and making himself shudder.  John snaked his hands down between their warm bodies, quickly undoing Sherlock’s trousers and slipping his hand inside.  Sherlock moaned and all but collapsed on top of John.

John rubbed up and down the length of Sherlock’s cock through his pants, kissing and biting at his throat that was now in reach.  John managed to push Sherlock pants and trousers down far enough to free his slim, hard cock.  Sherlock raised himself off of John and hurried to unzip John’s jeans and tug them down, before laying back on top of him, both wanting the closeness and needing the warmth.  

Sherlock all but growled as he claimed John’s mouth again, sliding his tongue along John’s lips before John opened his mouth, his tongue darting out to meet Sherlock’s.  Sherlock started to rock his hips against John, making them both moan, but it wasn’t enough.

Sherlock leaned his weight on one elbow and reached down to grip both of their cocks in his long, slender fingers.  John gasped and bucked against Sherlock’s hand, looking up into his face and seeing what was likely a good reflection of his own.  Mouth open, breathing hard, lips wet and slightly swollen, pupils large and cheeks pink, they were both a bit frenzied with lust.

“Oh John” Sherlock drawled out, his hand stroking them both quickly, impatiently.  John reached up to twine his fingers into Sherlock’s hair, pulling lightly on the fistfulls of curls.  Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut and his strokes lost their rhythm.  John made up for it by thrusting up into Sherlock’s hand.

“Ah fuck, Sherlock!” John moaned, panting and so very close.  They were both practically writhing against each other now, Sherlock’s hand anchoring them together.  

“Please John” Sherlock groaned, “I want you to come for me.” Sherlock’s voice sent a spark right down to John’s cock and with one more thrust he was moaning out his orgasm with Sherlock’s name on his lips.  Sherlock watched him, felt his hand get wet and hot and slick with John’s come and soon he added his own.  

Sherlock was trembling when he bent his head back down to kiss John again, slower this time, and much less urgent.  He managed to locate his scarf that was lost in the shuffle and wiped his sticky hand and both of their spattered shirts as best he could.  They both pulled their pants and trousers back up and Sherlock resumed his position behind John, again pulling his coat up over them.

John gave a comfortable sigh and Sherlock pressed his lips into John’s hair, pulling him in close again.  “Are you still cross with me?” Sherlock asked.

John couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, but ask me again when we’re tucked up like this in a warm bed and you’ll get a different answer.”

Sherlock hummed contentedly, clearly drifting off to sleep already, and John closed his eyes thinking that sleep might just be the second best way to pass the time until the tow truck showed up.


End file.
